You and Me and the Bottle Makes Three
by ann no aku
Summary: Rose steals a bottle of Peter the Great's vodka from the late 17th century after witnessing the abudction of Anastasia Romanov. She and the Doctor drink the aged liquor in memory of them, and somehow find themselves in jail with the TARDIS impounded.


You and Me and the Bottle Makes Three

**You and Me and the Bottle Makes Three**

**ann no aku**

**General Disclaimer: **Doctor Who is owned by the BBC and its creators.

**Author's Notes:** All historical references are accurate, save the bit about Anastasia being abducted by aliens. Takes place sometime early in series two.

**Chapter One**

**Rose the Great**

"I can't believe you didn't know that Anastasia was abducted," the Doctor announced once they had re-entered the TARDIS. He stood by the heart of the machine, a smug smirk etched on his face. His hands moving deftly over the controls, he maneuvered the ship into outer space, orbiting an ice moon that had an entire race living under the ice in frozen structures.

"Why would anyone want to abduct her?" Rose inquired, shrugging the Doctor's coat off her shoulders and carefully laying it over the back of the captain's chair. Inwardly, she shuddered at the memory of the tall, thin aliens with abnormally long fingers clutching a kicking and screaming Anastasia. "I had always thought that she was beautiful and had survived; like that movie Anastasia, only she couldn't remember what had happened."

"That's a movie, Rose, not real life," he sighed. "Apparently they believed her to be Tsar Nicholas II; with a face like that, I can see why. She was no Olga, I'll tell you that."

"Speaking of good ol' Nicky," Rose began with her tongue between her teeth. "Look what I nicked from his private stores during the raid." She pulled out a large bottle of vodka from Peter the Great's time along with two gold-rimmed shot glasses.

"You robbed from the Romanovs while they were being murdered by the Bolshevik?!" he shouted, his words thick with incredulity. "Rose, no. No!" He shook his head in disbelief.

"So do you want to go back so I can return it, then?" she inquired, a playful smile on her lips, still holding the vodka as if tempting him.

"It's too dangerous, you'll get killed," he resigned. "I'd rather face a hundred Daleks than your mother when she finds out you died on my watch. How did you get away with it anyway?" the Doctor demanded, immediately proceeding to the more pressing matter at hand.

"You gave me your jacket because I was cold," she replied as though explaining something basic to a child, and ignoring the comment he had made about her mother.

"It was July, Rose. How were you cold?" The Doctor had crossed his arms over his chest looking very much like how did when interrogating criminal aliens.

"The pockets are bigger on the inside," she announced, changing the subject. She flapped her arms unnecessarily at her sides as if to demonstrate 'bigger-on-the-inside' pockets.

"Right," he instantly agreed, "Yes, they are."

For a brief moment, they both stared at each other. Rose still held the bottle and shot glasses in her hands, a hesitant expression on her face that the Doctor wasn't quite used to seeing. "So, are we going to drink this then?" Rose finally asked, trying to sound indifferent.

"I suppose. I mean, it'd be terrible to waste it."

"Yeah, and it'd be like letting the vodka just _die_, right?" She had her tongue between her teeth again.

"You know I feel about," he stopped cold, no longer able to contain the smile forcing itself on his face. "Oh, bring it over here!"

She bounded over to him, leaping over a few odds and ends, her plaits bouncing atop her shoulders. "You sure about this, Doctor? I mean, this vodka is at least a hundred years old, and I nicked it an' all-"

"Are you telling me that you're too scared to open it now?" He snatched the bottle from her hands and poured the both of them very small shots. "There. Just one drink to remember the Romanovs. Cheers!"

"Cheers!" They clanged shot glasses together, both swallowing it whole. The aged vodka burned their throats like wildfire and tingled their brains as though they had been mildly electrocuted.

"Holy Rassilon!" the Doctor exclaimed, clutching his throat.

"Bloody hell," Rose agreed. Again, they met eyes and both exploded in mirths of laughter. "Wow," she said, "I can't believe how strong that stuff was."

The Doctor studied his shot glass, his eyes wide with disbelief. He then hastily picked up the vodka bottle, wiping some of the caked dust off with his jacket sleeve. "Rose, this is Peter the Great's vodka."

"Well, I hope he doesn't mind us drinking it. I mean, at least we're putting it to good use, yeah?" her words came out raspy, her throat still raw from the liquor.

"Peter the Great was the fourth tsar in the Romanov Dynasty, back in 1682 at the age of twelve."

"Then we're doing him a favor. He couldn't have enjoyed it at such a young age."

"Rose, do you understand what I am telling you? That vodka is at least two hundred years old! It's _deadly_!"

"Fancy another then?" Rose took the grimy bottle from the Doctor's hands and sniffed the opening. "God, it smells about two hundred years old. Still, I think we should have a drink for ol' Pete, yeah? Thanks to him we are able to enjoy this-"

"Cleaning fluid?" the Doctor offered. He watched with wary eyes as Rose poured them both very generous shots. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

"You didn't need much convincing!" she reminded, holding up her gold-rimmed glass with a trembling hand. "For Peter the Great and his, er, great vodka. Cheers!"

"Poet, you are," he mumbled. "Cheers!" Again their glasses tapped against each other, but both seemed to wait a long moment before swallowing. As if on a silent cue, they shot the drink back, coughing and sputtering once the liquid fire had burned its way down to their empty stomachs.

"Oh, that, that's _awful_ stuff!" The Doctor wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, surprised to find that the hairs were not singed.

"D-Do you," Rose's eyes shut for a second as she tried to focus, "do you think it's possible to be pissed already?"

"With this?" he gestured towards the large bottle, half expecting one-third of it to be empty with the way his head felt. "There isn't a doubt in my mind."

"We need just one," she held up a shaky finger," just one more for Anesthesia-"

"You mean Anastasia, Rose, and no. One was plenty."

"She was _abducted_, Doctor! Imagine how she feels, millions of miles from home an' all alone."

He didn't stop her as she poured them their final shot, the vodka brimming the top and hissing as it spilled on the metal-grated floor.

"For all the human girls stuck in space. Cheers!"

"Cheers," he half-heartedly clanged his glass and drank.

_Three minutes later_. . . .

The Doctor and Rose were laying on the floor, their hearts beating slowly and their breathing ragged. Somehow Rose's hand managed to find the Doctor's, and they held each other to get through the numb blaze coursing through their veins. Their empty glasses lay toppled on their sides forgotten after being unceremoniously dropped by them after that last drink.

"You alive?" the Doctor slurred, still unable to move any part of his body save his mouth.

"I think so, yeah," Rose answered after a long thirty seconds. "You?"

"Yeah, I'm good." He forced himself to turn over onto his stomach. "I'd say that's a reason to celebrate."

"What? Being alive?" She watched in horror as he picked up their abandoned glasses and sloshed some more vodka in them. "We won't be alive if we keep on drinking that stuff."

"Come on, Rose, where's your sense of adventure?" He slid her glass over to her awaiting hand, a grin etched on his boyish face.

Since their fourth shot three quarters of an hour ago, the drunken duo each had five more and the bottle was only half empty. Rose was laughing at a joke the Doctor had told a couple minutes previously; her simple human brain had only just grasped it.

"I'm telling you," he slurred, "we should go visit your mother and take her to planet Felspoon." He elongated the 's' for a full three seconds before popping the 'p'.

"Is that," Rose swayed on the spot before falling on top of the Doctor, "is that where the dogs have no noses? I-I wanna see-" She forced herself up and grabbed the vodka bottle. Instead of wasting time by pouring herself a drink, she took a hearty swig.

"Pass that here," the Doctor commanded, a sudden sternness in his voice. Rose complied, albeit sluggishly, and watched as he, too, took a large gulp. "Terrible stuff, that is!"

"Let's go see my mum," Rose suggested, already tapping at the controls.

"What? Now?" He lost his footing while advancing towards her and fell o his back, spilling a good bit of the liquor in the process. The TARDIS hissed and steam rose from the floor.

"Careful, yeah?" Rose shouted, struggling to reach him. "You're wasting it." Mustering all her feeble strength, she tugged the bottle from his loose grip.

The Doctor reached up to pull himself to a standing position. He slipped and slid his way to the controls, mumbling some alien curses the ship couldn't translate. "Powell Estate, London, England, 2006."

The TARDIS shook violently, knocking them both onto the hard floor. "Oh, that was fun! Let's do that again!" Rose exclaimed, still clutching the vodka and laughing.

"Anything for you, Rose." That was the last either could recall before waking up to a loud banging on the door.

_Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you._


End file.
